Til We Meet Again
by tinks-belle85
Summary: Pocahontas one shot. Rewrite of a previous story. How can John Smith say goodbye to the one he loves with all his heart?


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Disney's Pocahontas.

**Dedication:**

Even though I don't know you, I want to dedicate this one shot to SunRise19, HC247, and babyb26. Thanks for the reviews on all my Pocahontas fics and for writing such great stories as well. You guys are great!

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'**Til We Meet Again **

John Smith sat on the edge of his bed; his head in his hands. Tears streamed down his face as he thought of what he was about to do. How could he let her go? She was the only thing in this world he had truly loved, and now she was gone.

'What did I ever do to deserve this?' he thought as he sat there, feeling so helpless and unsure. He hadn't slept in two days, and had a feeling that more sleepless nights were yet to come. His blonde hair was matted and uncut; his baby blue eyes, once filled with so much life, were dull and tearful.

Today was to be the worst day of his life. Today he would bury his beloved Pocahontas. She died only days ago from a sudden sickness. No one knew what that sickness was or what caused it, but it came on so quick, that she did not have a chance. John was thankful for one thing; she did not suffer long.

But, he was going to.

His life revolved around that woman, and now his life had stopped. The funeral was set for an hour from now for the people of Jamestown, a separate service would be held for her in the Powhatan village, and the burial was to be shortly afterwards. It would take all he had to sit through the service while she lay there, lifeless, but to put that beautiful princess into the ground? Who ever came up with that horrible idea? How could he put her in the cold, lifeless ground? Pocahontas was a woman so filled with life and love who only wanted to love him. He could not do it… he just could not do it.

John was losing it. He could not think of her as dead right now, and his mind knew so. It drifted away from the painful thoughts which were consuming him, and memories of his life before he came to this New World flooded his mind.

During his teenage years, he only had one worry, where would he be going next? He knew his destination only when he arrived, and he loved every minute of that daring lifestyle.

At age fifteen, after the death of his father, George, John left home. As a restless youth, he was always on the lookout for his next grand adventure. His exploits began with fighting the Spanish, which he enjoyed immensely. The battlefield was a home to Smith and his adventurous nature. Later, he studied famous military men and tried to live life the way they did. Practicality was his way, and this would prove useful in years to come. The army, that's where his heart had been for years, but fate did not treat Smith kindly. He was taken prisoner and sold as a slave during a battle. No escape? That's what he was told, but he was never one to listen to others. He escaped.

In the deepest part of his heart, Smith yearned to be a sailor. To sail the open seas in search of new land, new adventures, would be thrilling. The greatest dream he ever had since he was a boy was to set sail on the open sea and that's exactly what he did.

The stars were his guide, and when they weren't visible, a map took their place. His trusty compass, always nearby, pointed him onward, down his path. A few times he got lost at sea, and scary though it was, he always managed to regain his course. He longed for more adventure at the end of every voyage, and could never be satisfied with what he had. Each voyage began to favor the last, and soon John grew bored with it. He made a reputation for himself as a strong sailor, but he wanted more. He wanted fame and an adventure like no other.

When the news came of an expedition to the New World, sponsored by the Virginia Company and chartered by King James I, in the names of Glory, God, and Gold, John jumped at the chance to board the Susan Constant. Along with the Godspeed and the Discovery, the Susan Constant headed out from its port at London in December 1606.

The trip was long and hard. One hundred and five men left the port, and miraculously only one was lost on the way during a stop on one of the many islands to the south of the New World. They battled hunger, sickness, severe storms, and near mutiny, but finally, in April 1607, four months after they first set sail, they landed on the coast of Virginia. The worst part however, started on May 14, when construction of the fort began. Most of the men who signed on for the trip were wealthy Englishmen who lacked a trade; so labor was scarce. They were forced to make due with what little skill they possessed.

The small colony was governed by a group of seven men, Ratcliffe heading them. But, they could not deal with the many problems that had to be faced. The lack of knowledge about this foreign land led to the absence of good food and clean water. Disease soon took hold and many of the original men perished. And, as if that was not enough, there were problems with the natives. The Powhatan people were wary of the newcomers and once the intentions of the white men were clear, tensions ran high as plans were made for an attack to drive out the unwelcome guests.

John smiled through his tears, and, still sitting on the bed, he remembered the one day that changed his life; the day he met Pocahontas. He was sent out by Ratcliffe to scout the area and find the location of the natives in order to get a better idea of who they were, and what they were planning to do. Unbeknownst to John, Pocahontas followed him through the forest, watching his every move and wondering who this handsome, pale-faced man could be. After they were married she explained to him the reason for their chance meeting under that waterfall. She had wanted to know more about him. He knew how curious and wonder filled she was. Pocahontas was just as adventurous as he when they first met.

There was an instant attraction between them. Their relationship was controversial, but not to them. They were in love, and although each of them could have been killed, John and Pocahontas never stopped meeting, never stopped loving. 'Whoever said love conquers all sure knew what he was talking about' thought John, thinking about the obstacles they had overcome just so they could be together.

He was so close to death the morning he was brought before Powhatan for the killing of Kocoum, but she, in her tireless effort to follow her path, had flung herself on top of him. Chancing life, love, and happiness, she disobeyed her father to save the man she loved, him, John Smith.

After that fateful morning when she saved him and in return, he took a bullet for her father without a second thought, John was shipped back to England. He only stayed a short time because, a man cannot live without a heart, and he left his heart back in Virginia.

So off he went, against doctors orders. To John Smith, it was a choice between a life with Pocahontas or no life at all. Once there, he immediately asked Pocahontas for her hand. The marriage was happily received by everyone. John was elected the leader of Jamestown shortly after his return. New settlers and supplies came into the harbor frequently, and with John's "no work, no food" policy, the colony flourished and expanded.

Life had been so good from then on. He and Pocahontas were happier than they had ever been. Then, one day, she came to him and said she wasn't feeling well. At first he did not take it too seriously. He only put her to bed for the day to rest, but very quickly her condition worsened. The doctor was called in and examined her. John shivered as he remembered the doctor's words.

"John, I'm sorry but it doesn't look good." He had said. "Her blood pressures down frighteningly low, she's running a high fever…" the list went on and on. John did not understand what the doctor was trying to tell him.

"What should I do? What can be done?" John asked.

The doctor pulled him over to the corner of the room, out of Pocahontas' hearing, to tell him what he thought should be done. "Call the preacher in John" was all that was said, and with that the doctor left John standing alone. Call the preacher in! What was he saying? John found it too hard to comprehend that his wife was dying. She could not be. This was just a little fever, it could not hurt her, and she was too strong, wasn't she? 'No,' he he thought as he had looked at her lying on the bed, struggling to breath, 'her spirit is strong, not her body.'

"John" came a tiny voice from the weak little body. "John, where are you?" John darted over to her bedside and took her hand into his. She tried to hold onto his hand but did not have the strength.

"I'm right here. What is it love?"

"John, I'm…I'm scared." She whispered, opening her eyes to look up at him. He could see the pain in them and the fear. He held back his tears as he struggled to find the right words, but what could he say? He knew she was dying, did she know it too? Of course she must, she was always so wise and in command of her feelings.

"Don't be…scared Pocahontas. I'm not going to leave you." He tenderly caressed her forehead, pushing back a few strands of long, black hair.

She smiled frailly at her husband, taking comfort that he was there, holding her hand through these last moments of her life. If she had to leave, this is how she wanted it. Just the two of them sharing this emotional time together, loving and holding on till the end. And that was how it was. No one was there, no one knew. John was thankful the end came quickly and quietly as he kneeled beside her, still stroking her forehead. "John, I have to go now." She calmly told him.

"I know," he replied, not wanting to accept the truth, but he wouldn't upset her now. "I wish I could come with you my love." He added, sorrowfully.

"John, I can't take you with me, but I promise you this," summoning the last of her strength she added, "I'll always be with you." And with that, she was gone.

No matter how hard he tried, he could not make himself believe that she was there with him. He could not hold her anymore. He could not have those late night talks or late afternoon strolls with her anymore. For days now he had been asking God why, why did he take Pocahontas away? What horrible thing was done that left him without her? He did not know. He did not understand anything anymore. Life, death, and especially God were all strange to him now.

Once, he had promised Pocahontas that they would be together forever, but could he really stay true to that promise? Surely she made it into Heaven, but how was he ever going to get in? John was sure it would not be easy, if at all possible, now more than ever. All his hope and faith seemed to die along with her. "Pocahontas" he said quietly, "I need you to help me. I don't know if we'll ever meet again if it's left up to me. I need you and the Lord now to help me through this. Please talk to him…for me. I can't seem to do it right now."

His prayers were interrupted by the sound of light tapping on the door. John looked up, wiping his eyes, as the door slowly opened. Thomas' concerned expression appeared on the other side. His young face was stained with tears; his eyes red and filled with grief. John's hurt increase as he examined the emotions present on Thomas' face. "John, the preacher's ready to begin" Thomas said. John took a deep breath as he stood up and steadied himself for the hardest few hours of his life. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I have to Thomas. I have to say goodbye." Thomas nodded solemnly, and led John out of the bedroom and into the living area, where Pocahontas' body lay, and the service was to be held.

There were chairs set up in the small room, and each one filled with a body. He looked around the room at his friends, who had gathered to pay their respects to their dear Pocahontas, before he took his seat at the front. He took some comfort in company, and smiled a little, knowing Pocahontas wouldn't have wanted all of the attention.

The service was beautiful, very sad, and long. Many people asked to speak about the young woman who had given so much towards their well-being. She was loved by many, and would be remembered by all as a wonderful and caring human being who had proven her worth many times over. John bore it better than he believed he would. The happy memories of her quieted his tears during the service, and when it was over, he finally got his chance to say goodbye. The group had passed over Pocahontas, stopping to give their prayers, and once they had finished, John was left alone, just for a moment, with her.

He walked up slowly, once again taking her hand in his, and stroking her forehead in the same way he had the night she passed. Tears did not come this time, he only knelt down and quietly reflected for what seemed like an eternity, and then he finally spoke.

"Pocahontas, I've thought about what to say to you now. At first I wanted to say… goodbye, but now I realize that this isn't goodbye, it's only one more step our love must take. So, I won't say goodbye." He paused a moment, trying to stop a lump from forming in his throat, then continued on. "My love, you told me the night you left that you would always be with me, but I could never come to terms with that. How? How can you always be with me, I thought. But I now know. You're with me in those happy memories that we shared in our short time together, and you're with me in the memories that our friends share. I know that we aren't truly together right now, but I believe, after I've wracked my brain with unanswerable questions, that with you up there on my side, we'll meet again one day. So, I'll only say, till we meet again, my love" and he slowly leaned over and gave his love one last kiss.


End file.
